


Incoming!!!

by RussianSunflower3



Series: Rescue November 2020 challenge by Bonanza [15]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Rescue Bots
Genre: But it is accurate, Day 21, Dorks in Love, Emergence, M/M, Mech Preg (Transformers), Mushy, Non-Descriptive birth, Prompt - Shift, Rescue Bots November, There's nothing descriptive so it's all SFW, Transformer Sparklings, Transformers Spark Bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: Blades was content in the knowledge that his sparkling wasn't due for another two weeks. Content enough that, despite Heatwave just wanting to recharge, Blades decides to go for a walk around the academy grounds.The problem is, sparklings don't quite understand the concept of "not due for two weeks".
Relationships: Blades/Heatwave (Transformers)
Series: Rescue November 2020 challenge by Bonanza [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996795
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Incoming!!!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bonanza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonanza/gifts).



> I had to go back to my Child Development Studies notes for this.  
> Those are from 10 years ago.

“Heatwave, can you please _Move. Over_.” Despite being framed like a question, Heatwave knows it is anything _but_. It is a demand. But he’s tired. He’s grumpy. He’s cold.

Scowling, he tugs more of the blanket over him, trying to ward off the chill from half-hanging off the berth.

“I literally _can’t_ , Blades. I am right on the edge.” Trying to be patient, he grits his denta and wriggles to make it feel as if he did try moving over. But the shift doesn’t fool his Conjunx.

Blades makes a small sound of frustration, followed by a smaller whine of discomfort. All of Heatwave’s anger melts away in that moment. It’s not Blades’s fault that he’s snappy, irritable, and uncomfortable.

It’s the fact that he’s far into his carrying sequence.

He’s heavy, he’s sore, and his quark levels are out of balance. It doesn’t make for a happy conjunx. Not to mention that the sparkling in his gestation chamber has pushed out his abominable plating, making him rotund. 

(He had _not_ taken Kade’s comment about ‘the scoop returning’ well.)

Tonight seems to be a particularly achy night. Blades keeps shuffling, his rotors tapping against Heatwave’s back when he gets too close. His pedes keep swinging off the berth too, then tucking back close to his frame.

Venting a sigh, Heatwave _carefully_ rolls over, resting his arm over Blades’ windshield. He nuzzles against Blades’ audio receptor too, muttering quietly.

“You okay?”

“No!” The immediate answer, snapped back at him with uncharacteristic anger, has Heatwave worried. He props himself up on his other servo, moving his servo down to rub over the sparkling bump.

“Bitlet giving you trouble?” Blades is quiet, field dancing between upset and uncomfortable.

“I don’t _know_ , Heatwave. I just feel restless. One moment it’s too hot, then too cold, and I can’t bear anything touching me, but then I want to just be completely wrapped up and- It’s _really_ confusing.”

“Do you think anything would help?” Another quiet moment. For an astrosecond, Heatwave thinks Blades has drifted off to recharge, but then a grey servo rests over his own, squeezing gently.

“Maybe a walk? Or something sweet?” Huffing fondly, Heatwave sits up, pushing the blanket off.

“Alright, I’ll go get you some iron-coated rust sticks. Don’t wander too far~.” The warmth in Heatwave’s voice makes Blades smile, the sparkbond softly pulsing with love and affection.

“As if I could get far with _this_ anyways.” He squeezes the servo over his sparkling bump again before letting go so Heatwave can help him sit up. It’s not easy, when his frame weighs him down and he’s _round_.

Exchanging tired, but loving looks, they share a small kiss before Heatwave leaves the room, heading towards the energon stores near the rec room. They hide the rust sticks on a top shelf now, ever since their favourite little recruits ‘accidentally’ ate most of the first batch.

With the berthroom door open, Blades can feel the chill of the hallway and shivers, rotors shuddering separately as if to shake the breeze off. He pulls the blanket up to cover his shoulders, and then _heaves_ himself from the berth. 

It takes a couple of attempts to even get off the berth! Something uncomfortable tingles across his plating, and Blades frown as he tries to process it. But, he can’t place it, so in the end, he attributes it to having watched too many horror movies lately.

“Where to walk…? Where to walk…?” Muttering to himself, he drags his heavy pedes out of the room, one servo holding the blanket around him, the other resting under his sparkling bump to hold it up so it doesn’t feel like it’s ripping his spinal strut in half. If only it didn’t feel like it was being pulled downwards.

“Gravity is so _rude_.” Continuing on, he makes it to the end of the hallway before Heatwave reappears, holding a small containing of iron-coated rust sticks. He looks at how far Blades has walked (waddled), and gives him a proud grin.

“Hey, not too bad, sweetspark. Yesterday, you couldn’t take more than three steps.”

“For some reason, I feel a little more active tonight. Maybe it’s the restlessness, maybe my quarks have settled… I’m not sure.” Taking one of the rust sticks, Blades starts nibbling on it.

And _yes_ , this is definitely part of what he wanted. Thank the All Spark his guess was correct, or he would have been up all night trying to quell a craving without knowing what it was.

“Feeling ready to come back to recharge?” He humms as he rolls the sweet iron flavour over his glossa.

“I’m still so… _Antsy_. I think I’ll walk a little more, but you can go back to recharge if you’d like.” Heatwave raises an optical ridge. 

“Without my Conjunx? No way.”

“Heatwave, you’re _tired_.”

“And you’re _carrying_. I’m not letting you roam the hallways at night, with no one awake to help you if something happens. What if you fall? What if you wear yourself out? What if you go into _emergence_?” Blades rolls his optics, but follows it with a gentle laugh.

“I’m not going to fall, there are plenty of seats if I wear myself out, and emergence is still two weeks away. I’ll be _fine_! Plus, Chase is on hallway duty tonight. I can always comm him if I need help.” Tilting his helm, Blades taps his chin with a digit.

“Actually, I might go and find Chase anyways. I want to ask him how Whirl is doing.” Faceplates pulling into a frown, Heatwave tries to guide his very stubborn mate back towards the berthroom.

“I don’t know, Blades. Can’t you just comm him?” Blades reaches up and cups Heatwave’s faceplates firmly.

“I love how concerned you are. I think it’s really cute. But, Heatwave, conjunx. _Please_. I am not invalid, I am not stupid, and I am _not_ coming back to recharge right now.”

“... Okay.” Heatwave shutters his optics, a dazed, lovestruck shine in them. He’s a fool in love, and he’s proud to admit it.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good, because you can’t stop me.” Blades is so _pretty_ when he’s stubborn… And then his conjunx - his _heavily carrying_ conjunx - removes his servos and starts to waddle off again. Heatwave shakes off the hypnotized, lovestruck expression and vents a sigh, smacking his servo over his faceplates.

“I’ll wait up for you. If you need anything…” He trails off, servo over spark, and feels a gentle, comforting pulse of _don’t worry/I will/Promise_ come through the sparkbond.

Shaking his helm fondly, Heatwave goes back into the berthroom to put the rust sticks on Blades’ side, and pick out a good datapad. Who knows how long he could be waiting? Primus forbid he tried to stop Blades being independent, not even Chase or Dani could stop him.

“Not even _Primus himself_ can stop me.” Muttering to himself in determination, Blades gives a little wave to a security camera pointed towards the staff area. He still doesn’t know if his Amica is on patrol, or on cameras, looking for any naughty little recruits who liked to sneak out of their rooms after curfew.

(Unsurprisingly, their favourite five students held the longest record for that.)  
((Wedge’s was longest, but he claimed it was just because Medix rarely got caught.))

And that’s when Blades feels something _shift_.  
_**Hard**_.

Wincing, he leans against the wall, venting heavily. His servo rests over his sparkling bump, and he can feel movement from inside.

“Wow, okay, you’re energetic. Take after your Sire, huh?” It takes a few heavy vents for the sparkling to settle, but instead of feeling like it’s all over and he can go back to recharge, Blades just feels _more_ awake.

Considering he hadn’t gotten a concerned comm from Chase, his amica was probably patrolling the corridors for misbehaving students.

So, Blades set out to find him.

“Honestly, if the recruits weren’t such rule-breakers…”

“You say that, but we were too when we were recruits.” Blades jumps at the voice from behind, servo over spark. The blanket falls to the floor as he lets it go, but that's fine. Now, he's too _warm_.

“Primus! Give a mech some warning, Chase! I think I damn near went into emergence then!” Chase smiles with amusement, but his field reaches out with a brush of concern. Blades, naturally, waves it off.

He still has two weeks to go, after all.

Chase slows his pace to match with Blades, slow enough that he could probably take a single step every ten seconds and still be ahead. But then, he’s not the one carrying. He doesn’t have a whole extra frame inside of him.

“Would you like to check on our mentees with me? I believe they have been plotting something all night.”

“When _aren’t_ they?”

“That is a fair point, but evidence leads me to suggest that this is big. I have witnessed four of them poke their helms out of the door several times.”

“Four?”

“Yes, I have not seen Medix yet, which leads me to believe the others may be looking out for him.” Blades giggles a little, the back of his servo brushing against his lipplates.

“If he’s as good as Wedge claims, possibly~.” The two come to a stop outside the recruits dorm room. Chase swipes his card across the access panel and it pings green, letting him open the door.

What greets them is Wedge and Hoist lifting Whirl up towards the ceiling, Medix dangling down from an open vent, Hot Shot standing to the side with a stack of DVD’s, some energon treats, and Chuck. All five freeze as they stare at their teachers.

“Uh… This isn’t what it looks like…?” Blades doubles over in laughter in the doorway, whilst Chase moves in to reach up and help Medix down from the vent. Even though he’s in trouble, the youngling does mumble a sheepish ‘thank you’. Whirl does a backflip off Hoist and Wedge’s servos.

“It looks to me, Hoist, like you planned to have an impromptu movie night _after curfew_ , without permission, and sent your smallest teammate through the vents to retrieve the items you wanted.”

“... Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“But we were going to put them back before morning!” Chase gives Whirl a small, disappointed expression with narrowed optics. It’s enough to make her guiltily look down at the floor, fumbling her servos together.

“Professor!” For some reason, Hot Shot’s voice is full of panic. Chase turns to him, and then follows his gaze to Blades in the doorway. His optics widen.

Because Blades isn’t doubled over with laughter anymore.  
He’s doubled over with _pain_.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow.”

“Blades!” Quickly, Chase moves over, kneeling down so he can support Blades’s weight on his own frame. The helicopter gives him a grateful grin, but through the pain, it looks more like a grimace. He shutters his optics off as what can only be described as a _ripple_ of pain passes through him.

“What’s happening? What do you need?”

“It- It’s happening.”

“What? Can you explain-”

“It’s _happening_!” At Blades’s panicked shriek, Chase suddenly realises. His processor blanks for an astrosecond before he hears the recruits bustling behind him, clearing their dorm room sofa.

“Come along, sit down now. Hot Shot, please retrieve Ratchet. Whirl, please retrieve Heatwave. Hoist, we are going to need solvent, water, and towels. Medix, can you remember where the gurneys were? Excellent, please go and get one.” Orders are followed, and as Blades is gently lowered to sit on the sofa, the dorm room empties. Except for one.

“Uh, what can I do, Professor Chase…?” Awkward and nervous, Wedge shuffles his pedes together. Chase offers him a small smile, but he’s more focused on his amica, who whimpers and half-sobs with pain.

“How good are you at using the communication hub, Wedge?”

“I… I can make or receive a call? Basic stuff.”

“Excellent. How would you like to contact your mentor and tell him what’s going on? As Blades’s secondary amica, Bumblebee is on the list of mechs Blades wanted present for this event.”

“I can do that!” Saluting, Wedge races out of the room. Despite the situation, and the feeling of Blades burying his faceplate into Chase’s shoulder, Chase can’t help but chuckle.

“You certainly have wonderful timing, Amica~.”

“Sh-Shhhhhut uuuup… Heatwave _told_ me this would happen… Oh, I should have stayed in _berth_!!!” The dramatic whining is a sign he’s okay, and Chase relaxes.

Just as well, because an incredibly flustered Heatwave swings into the room at that instance. He must have run ahead and left poor Whirl behind. 

“What happened?!” Not waiting for an answer, Heatwave spots Blades and skids to his side, dropping onto the sofa next to him and tightly grasping the servo _not_ digging into Chase’s chestplate.

Huh. That actually hurts.  
But it’s nowhere near what Blades is going through.

Thankfully, though, the wave of pain seems to be easing off. Blades vents heavily, but he’s able to open his optics and release his desperate grip.

“That… That, was unexpected.”

“Sweetspark, why didn’t you _tell_ me it was time?!”

“You think I had any idea either?!” Blades and Heatwave stare at each other, but then, recognising the situation, Heatwave backs down. 

“Sorry, I’m just worried about you. And the bitlet. And the recruits. But mostly you and the bitlet. Primus, I’m rambling, aren’t I?” Blades nods with a shameless smile, whilst Chase chooses not to comment. 

“- got caught, and then I noticed Professor Blades was-” 

“Alright, thank you, Hot Shot.” Emergency kit in hand, Ratchet calmly enters the room. He has a calm professionalism in his field, but he reaches out to brush the expecting creators with friendliness and a playful congratulations.

“Well, this is a fine little nest you’ve chosen yourself.” Blades rolls his optics.

“Ratchet, _please_. I’ve already heard about my ‘superb’ timing from my Conjunx and Amica, I don’t need to hear it from you too.” With a soft laugh, Ratchet shoos Chase off the sofa, round to the back so he can rub Blades’s shoulders instead.

Opening his emergency kit, Ratchet pulls out a small light attached to some kind of scope.

“I need to see how close you are to emergence. Open, please.” Embarrassed, Blades does so and lets Ratchet do his thing whilst Heatwave shutters his optics.

“Wait, this isn’t the emergence?”

“No, this is the pre-emergence stage. You’ve still got quite a way to go. Somewhere between 1 and 12 groons. Hours.” Wiping his tools clean, Ratchet smirks at the extremely dramatic groan from Blades.

“1 to 12 _hours_? Just take it out of me before- NGGN!” Another ripple. Blades curls in on himself, venting hard, and squeezing the _pit_ out of Heatwave’s servos. Chase rubs his back, and Ratchet rests a reassuring servo on the sparkling bump.

“Nice and easy, that’s it… Vent like we practiced, yes?”

“Easy for you! To say! This hurts! Like _Unicron_ is digging into my-!” He cuts off with a painful cry, which might as well be a blessing in disguise. The recruits who are undoubtedly outside the door do _not_ need to hear that kind of thing.

“I’ve got you, Conjunx, I’m right here.” 

“ _You did this to me!!!_ ” Chase stifles a small laugh as Blades points at Heatwave with all the calm fury of bear being poked awake from hibernation. (Whirl learnt that one the hard way.)

Ratchet doesn’t care to cover his laugh, only patting the bump sympathetically. Before the war, he saw many carriers, and anger was only one of the coping mechanisms with the unrivalled pain.

Poor, stunned Heatwave shutters his optics.

“... We did this together?” Before Blades can threaten to hit Heatwave with his own ladder, Ratchet attaches a pain patch to a port in his hip. The soothing sensation and gentle chill distracts Blades enough to spare Heatwave’s helm.

“Oh, that’s… That doesn’t hurt anywhere near as much.”

“Don’t get too used to it. These pre-emergence surges get much stronger and closer together. Pain patches can only do so much.”

“Great.” The grumpy little huff is followed by a knock on the door. Huh. Ratchet must have closed it behind him.

“Professor, I brought the water… ‘Nd solvent… ‘Nd towels… And some other stuff from the washracks…” Heatwave goes to get up, but Chase holds up a servo to stop him and goes over to the door himself. He opens it, takes the items from Hoist, and then advises the youngling to go to the common room and wait for updates.

Bringing the basket of items back, Chase laughs a little at the polish, varnish, buffer, and paint scrub that’s been added to it. Heatwave raises an optical ridge, but concedes with a grin.

“It’s the thought that counts.”

“Not very useful in this situation, but very sweet.” Rippling pain gone, Blades leans forwards to look into the basket.

“Aww! They’re so _cute_.”

“Don’t you go adopting the recruits now, we’re about to have one of our own.” Blades gives Heatwave a narrow glare, and Heatwave holds his hands up in mock surrender. Chase wonders if they’re about to start bickering lovingly, but then there’s a knock on the door.

“Uh, Professor Ratchet?” The muffled call through the door sounds somewhat concerned, so Ratchet gives Blades one more check-over before he goes and slips out the room. He leaves the door slightly ajar so they can hear.

“Medix? Is everything- Oh, dear.”

“This was the only gurney available and I don’t believe it would hold _anyone’s_ weight in this state.” That’s not good news to hear at all. Blades is in no condition to walk, and if the medical equipment needed to take him to the medbay is _broken_...

“Do you want me to try lifting you…?” Spoken so quietly, Blades almost doesn’t hear Heatwave, but he eventually processes the words and shakes his helm with a soft smile.

“I think that would hurt. My back is constantly aching now, despite the pain patch.” Heatwave gently brushes his digits against Blade’s chassis, stroking over the chestplates his spark rests behind. It’s incredibly romantic, and Blades metaphorically melts a little.

“I’m okay, Heatwave. It’s… Going to hurt, I know that much. But it’s worth it. It’s _more_ then worth-” A whimper. He curls up a little into himself, as if he’s trying to curl away from the pain. 

It’s not as bad as before, thanks to the pain patch, but it’s still enough to let him know that he’s about to have a _sparkling_.

Well. In 1 to 12 hours.  
(Seriously, could Ratchet not have given him a smaller margin???)

“I guess the recruits are going to be camping in the common room overnight then…” With a soft vent, Chase reaches out and squeezes Heatwave’s shoulder.

“Boulder is on the same mission as Bumblebee. Since Wedge is contacting them, I’m sure Boulder will return and elect to watch over the younglings.”

“That’s better than leaving them alone. Who knows what they’d get up to?” Chase decides not to mention that he and Blades had walked in on the recruits in the process of getting Medix out of the ventilation system which had apparently been used to ‘burrow’ things.

When they were supposed to be _recharging_.

It’s mischievous, but still nowhere near as creative and challenging as what Sigma-17 got up to as recruits back on Cybertron.  
(Like, at least the younglings hadn’t accidentally destroyed a whole wall yet.)

“Alright, we have an issue.” Venting a gruff sigh, Ratchet comes back over to them and crouches down to look Blades in the optics. Blades, still recovering from that last jolt, shutters his optics before wiping a free servo down his face.

“I’m stuck here, aren’t I?”

“Unfortunately, yes. There’s a large tear in the gurney canvas. Medix attempted to stitch it together, but it’s just not strong enough. There _is_ a chance we could lift you, but-”

“No! No, I’m already hurting!” Ratchet’s optics widen. He pulls out his inspection tools again, giving them another sanitizing wipe.

“Already? Open up.” Forgetting how embarrassed he is due to the situation, Blades unashamedly does as ordered, flinching slightly at the chill of tools pressing against him in very uncomfortable places. There’s a beat of silence, and panic builds up inside of him.

Heatwave gently tries to calm him down over the sparkbond, but it’s not enough to stop Blades squeaking out;

“Am I dying?!”

“No… No.” The answer is too quiet, too _placid_ for Ratchet, still looking around with a small light on the end of a speculum. Blades chokes back a sob, Chase softly murmuring reassurance to his Amica whilst Heatwave lets Blades grab his servos in a death-grip.

Quickly, Ratchet seems to realise the distress and looks up sharply. 

“I mean it, Blades. You’re not dying. I was too distracted to reassure you, I apologise.” Heatwave makes a sound of confirmation, tilting his helm curiously.

“What distracted you, doc?”

“The fact that this is going _much_ faster than expected. In fact, I’d say you’re almost completely in emergence. How long were you having pre-emergence shifts before calling me?” Blades shutters his optics, venting heavily against the feeling of agony creeping up his spinal struts. Something is _definitely_ going on down there, and it’s not pleasant. 

“A-About an hour? Chase f-found me just after th-the first one.” Ratchet frowns, optical ridge pressing down. Then, as if he’s had an idea, he straightens up, quick enough to make Blades jump.

“And how were you before that? Sore? Restless? You _had_ to move about?” Heatwave and Blades look at each other, their sparks pulsing with mirror signals of surprise.

“Yes, that’s…”

“Blades hasn’t recharged at all. He kept fidgeting and wanting to walk about…” Ratchet nods sagely, his frown slowly turning to a smirk.

“And yesterday, I’m sure you couldn’t move at all?” Remembering how _sore_ , how heavy, how _**immoblie**_ he’d been yesterday, Blades groans, dropping his helm back against Chase behind him.

As a dark blue servo strokes over his forehelm soothingly, realisation hits Blades, and Heatwave catches on a second later thanks to the sparkbond.

“That was his pre-emergence phase, wasn’t it?” Snickering, Ratchet nods. 

“Indeed it was. Congratulations, you fall into the rare category of mechs with extremely quiet pre-emergences.”

“Really? _Really?_ ‘Congratulations’, I feel like you're mocking me! I’m stuck in the recruits dorm room, about to have a _sparkling_ , one of my Amica’s isn’t even here yet, and I _hurt_!” Ratchet just give Blades’ knee a good-natured pat.

“You’re doing just fine.” Heatwave nods in agreement, taking both of Blades’ servos in one of his own, other one resting on the sparkling bump.

“Soon, Blades, soon we’ll have our little one safely in our arms, and it’ll be all thanks to you.” His voice carries the warmth of his love, but Heatwave doesn’t expect for Blades to suddenly start sobbing. He isn’t in pain or distress, the bond would let him know, but he _is_ overwhelmed.

“Blades- Hey, hey, sweetspark, it’s okay, you’re _okay_. Vent with me, okay? Just like we practiced, lean on me, yeah?” The repeated reassurance seems to calm Blades down, but he still sniffles and shakily tries to wipe optical fluid off on the back of his arm.

A silent presence, Chase uses a cloth to wipe them away instead.

“I just-! I just feel like it’s going so fast, I’m so- I’m _drowning_ , and I can’t sort out my own thoughts and - _Oh Primus it hurts!!!_ \- this isn’t what we planned at all!!! _I can’t **do** this!!!_” 

Ah. So that’s what upsetting him.

Two weeks early, no previous warning, stuck in the recruits dorm room instead of in the nest they built in medbay, with his secondary Amica missing… 

This is all so unexpected, every little thing is building up and making Blades stressed. He’s anxious, he’s doubting himself, and most of all, he’s scared.

He’s _terrified_.

“I’m right here, sweetspark. I’m here, Chase is here, Ratchet is here, and I’m sure Bumblebee will be here soon. You’re not alone. And I know this isn’t what we planned, but, since when have things ever gone to plan? Nothing we’ve ever planned together, that’s for sure~.” Heatwave chuckles roughly, quietly, and notices Blades is peering at him through squinted optics. He sends a wave of love and support over the sparkbond, leaning in to press a kiss to Blades’ cheekplates.

“You can do this, Conjunx.” Blades give him a small, uncertain smile. He tries to pulse back the same amount of love, but it’s accidentally laced with the pain he’s feeling. Heatwave winces. That’s… Strong. Really strong.

“Ratchet, do you have another pain patch for him?”

“Not at this late a stage. He’s crowning already.”

“Crowning?” Ratchet nods, and tugs Heatwave’s chin downwards.

“... Oh. That’s- That’s our sparkling’s helm, isn’t it?” Chase reaches over and pinches one of Heatwave’s fuel lines, **hard**. 

“Please do not faint on my Amica when he desperately needs you.” Spluttering, Heatwave stands up again.

“I wasn’t going to!!” Blades manages a small laugh between a grimace and whimper.

“You d-did feel woozy over th-the bond…” Cheekplates flushing with embarrassment, Heatwave averts his optics before snapping them back when Blades _wails_ , squeezing his servos so tight that something creaks.

“Blades!”

“Push, Blades, push!” 

“N-Noooo!! It _hurts!!!!_ I’m being ripped apart!” Ratchet is there with a towel in his servos, waiting for the sparkling to emerge, but it’s not going to if Blades doesn’t follow his instructions.

But… Ratchet takes a calming vent.  
The rescue bots are still young. Adults, yes, but still young adults. No doubt, Blades is scared and uncertain, and has never experience this before.  
Primus, had they even been _taught_ about emergence before Blades started carrying?

“Listen to me, Blades. I know what’s happening here, okay? I’ve done this hundreds of times. I know you’re hurting, I know you’re scared, and I know this is completely new to you. But _trust me_. I’m your medic. I won’t let you suffer, I won’t let you offline, and I won’t tell you to do something if it’s not ready. But right now, that sparkling is _coming_ , that sparkling is _ready_ , and I need you to catch up before both of you get damaged.”

“I-”

“Can you do that for me, Blades? Can you be brave?” A vibrating sob grinds to an awful staticy halt in Blades’ vocaliser, and he resets it. Still, he can only get out a whine, so instead, he nods. Ratchet squeezes his thigh supportively.

“Good boy. Now, this time, when I tell you to push, _do it_. It doesn’t matter if it’s messy, it doesn’t matter if your frame mixes up signals, it doesn’t matter if _anything else_ happens, okay? Just push, and let’s get this sparkling out of there.” 

“Wait- What do you mean ‘messy’?” Ratchet and Chase both shoot Heatwave a glare as Blades’ vents hitch. Murmuring an apology, Heatwave ducks his helm and goes back to purely focusing on his Conjunx.

On the wonderful bot that loves _him_ , that bonded to him, that gave him this beautiful future he sometimes doubted he deserved. Blades had given him everything and more, and now, he was bringing a sparkling into this world. 

_His_ sparkling. _Their_ sparkling. A bright little bundle of joy that would undoubtedly be loved and adored and spoiled by everyone. _Especially_ its creators.

Heatwave adored it already, and it hadn’t even emerged yet.

“Vent… Vent… Yes, good… And now, push!” Blades obeys, pushing with all his might and wailing so loudly that it may well have been a scream. Collapsing into sobs at the hurt, and the sting, and the ache, it takes him an astrosecond to realise that Chase is congratulating him, Heatwave is looking down with awe, and _he’s not the only one crying_.

Tiny, squeaky chirps vibrate and wobble in an imitation of crying, and just like that, Blades’ priority shifts.

The pain is no longer in the front of his processor, and he jolts forwards, gasping in desperation as he reaches for his sparkling, his creation, his-

“Easy, Blades, easy…” Chase helps him to lean forwards, servos supporting his lower back as he lunges. Then, he sees his sparkling for the first time.

A wriggling little grey blob, with stumpy arms and legs, blocky servos and pedes waving about, and a squidgy helm that hasn’t taken form yet creates splashes in the bowl of lukewarm water Ratchet holds it in.

The doctor instructs Heatwave as his Conjunx - _beloved, amazing Conjunx_ \- washes the tiny, squirmy thing with a soft polishing cloth. Droplets of pink energon mix in with the water, but Blades instinctively knows it’s his own, not the sparklings.

“That’s… It’s… Our…” Patting the grey blob - which is now starting to take shape as a protoform - with another towel to dry it, Ratchet laughs and stands up, sparkling in servos.

“Congratulations, Blades, Heatwave. This little one is healthy, developing quickly, and certainly very excited about it!” A chirp and a trill from the protoform, and that’s all it takes for Blades to start sobbing again - but happily, this time.

He holds out his shaking servos, and Ratchet gently passes over the sparkling, tucking it tightly against Blades’s chassis and making sure Blades has one arm tucked underneath it, supporting the helm in the crook of his elbow joint. By this point, colours are starting to appear on the sparkling’s frame. Grey fades into brilliant white for the main portion of the protoform, and the arms and legs show splotches of a red that’s nearly orange, whilst the servos and pedes are an orange that’s nearly yellow.

“M-My beautiful _bitlet_...” The protoform squeals, sensing its carrier’s spark nearby, and Blades closes his optics as he slowly drops his helm to rest against the sparkling’s (still squishy) helm. 

Both of them are quiet, and Heatwave gently ushers Blades back into sitting against the back of the sofa, then moves to sit next to him.

He wraps an arm around Blades’s back and cups the other servo under Blades’s arm where the sparkling rests, goes to lean in and-

He almost flinches at the protective growl his Conjunx gives him.  
An honest to Primus _growl!!_

Ratchet laughs at Heatwave’s taken aback expression. 

“Give him two kliks. Now the sparkling has emerged, they need to strengthen the carrier-creation bond before the Sire can join in. Blades won’t recognise you until that connection with your newspark is solid. He’ll invite you - through your sparkbond - when he’s ready.”

“That’s… I don’t remember talking about that.” Having moved from the back of the sofa to help Ratchet clean up, (because, yes, it _was_ messy), Chase gives Heatwave a pointed look.

“That was something you brushed off because ‘Blades would never do that to me’, as I recall you saying.” Heatwave looks away, pretending like he’s not ashamed of that. Then, he turns his optics back to his family.

His _family_.

Not just his conjunx, but his conjunx and their sparkling. Their _**family**_. 

Blades is still protectively wrapped around the sparkling, protoform fully coloured and forming a biometal shell that will be its first frame, venting so slowly and serenely that he looks like he’s recharging. If it wasn’t for the soft purr of Blades’ engines, or the little ‘pips’ and squeaks from the sparkling, Heatwave would have thought they were both resting.

“So, did you decide on a designation?” Heatwave jumps as his attention is snatched away from staring adoringly at his mate and their new creation, but he can only smile gently when he thinks about the question Chase asked.

“We had a few we were going to narrow down in the next week or so, but since this little one came early, we… Still have some deciding to do. Some of our favourites include Firebreak, Updraft, Pilot, Blaze, and Frostflame.”

“All wonderful names.” Grinning, Heatwave goes to say thank you, when there’s a tug on his spark. It doesn’t take much to figure out that this is the ‘invite’ Ratchet told him about.

His Conjunx and sparkling being more important than _anything_ else in the world right now, Heatwave tunes into them immediately, resting his own helm against Blades’s, with the tip of his olfactory appendage brushing against the sparkling’s helm.

He can feel it. He can _sense_ it. The tiny, warm pulse that beats next to his spark is undoubtedly his little one, and it gets closer with every vibration. Heatwave envelops it in dedication, adoration, and the promise to always protect it.

The three are so wrapped up in each other, so deep in their sparkbonds, they don’t even notice when the door slams open and an **extremely** muddy Bumblebee skids in at high speed.

“Hey, did I make it?!” A wrench nails him in the forehelm, knocking him backwards. Ratchet glares, pointing towards the door and out of the room that he’s painstakingly sanitizing after the unexpected emergence.

“OUT! Washracks, now!!!”

**Author's Note:**

> The videos I had to watch as part of my Child Development Studies were comically traumatic.  
> I'm never having kids.
> 
> Thank you for reading~! Please Kudos/Comment if you liked. ~OvO~ <3


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